


Stomach Flu

by 2dsickfics



Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe Fics [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Nausea, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:14:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsickfics/pseuds/2dsickfics
Summary: Peter Parker/Spiderman - Stomach Flu fic from my tumblr.





	Stomach Flu

Peter had been feeling off all day so far, but now - around noon - he feels like he might throw up. He’s at the tower, but he hasn’t left his room since last night after he told Tony he was turning in early because of his sour stomach.

Now ‘sour’ was an understatement. His stomach is rolling and the water he’d been sipping since he woke up has formed a rock at the bottom of his gut. A knock cuts his train of thought and his head snaps toards the door.

“Hey, kid. Feeling any better?” Tony says as he walks through the door, taking in the boys appearance; curled into the fetal position and white as paper, save the fever flush on his cheeks. His question is already answered.

“No, Mr Stark. I feel really sick.” Is the response, as expected, punctuated by a queasy hiccup. Peter’s starting to feel a lot warmer and his mouth tastes metallic. He has to get from his bed to the ensuite  _very_ soon.

“Whoa, I gotcha. FRIDAY, what’s his temp?” Mr Stark supports him when he sways, before Peter stumbles away to the toilet. He hears nothing for a few moments while he walks to the bathroom. As he comes through the doorway, he sees Peter hovering with his mouth open above the toilet and trying to steady his breathing. A string of spit is making its way into the water below and Peter’s hands are holding the seat of the toilet and he’s shaking under his own weight, dropping to his knees before belching wetly into the water.

“38.7 degrees, sir” the AI states.

“That bad, huh?” Tony slides down and starts rubbing his back. The kid just nods slightly and sqeezes his eyes shut. The smell of the bathroom chemicals and soaps aren’t helping his nausea and he gags. His breathing gets harsher before he retches and brings up a few mouthfuls of last nights dinner. He burps quietly and heaves a couple more times before shuffling away and leaning against the wall.

“Done for now?” Tony asks, reaching for a glass under the sink and filling it with water.

“Don’t know. Still feel like shit.” Peter doesn’t realise what he’s said until after it leaves his mouth. He looks up at his mentor with wide eyes, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s ok kid. You feel like shit, you’re allowed to say so. But when you’re better, no more cursing, got it?” Tony recieves a nod in response and Peter slowly pushes himself up and out of the bathroom, Tony close behind.

“‘M just gonna try to sleep it off.” Crawling under the blanket, the Spiderling curls around his stomach and closes his eyes.

“Ok buddy, feel better.” The door closes signaling Mr Starks departure.

* * *

When he wakes up, Peter immediately rolls out of bed to dash to the bathroom, only getting to the sink before losing more of yesterday’s meals. He gets a break and quickly manouvers himself over the toilet before heaving some more. He jumps when there’s a knock on his bedroom door, but can only retch in response.

Tony is confused when there’s no answer, but guesses the kid’s sleeping. He opens the door to check, but the penny drops when he hears a choked curse and a splash. There’s vomit in the sink, a bit around the edges, too, showing how close they came to some unexpected decor. 

“Oh…” Is all he can say.

“Mr Stark?” Peter mumbles as he flushes the toilet. “I don’t feel good.”

“I can see that. How about you get back into bed and we’ll put a bucket there so you don’t need to run next time.” Tony once again reaches under the sink after washing it out to grab the bucket, before refilling the glass from before and bringing them both to the side of the bed. He places the glass on the table before looking to the cieling.

“FRIDAY, alert me when he throws up until his temp is down to 37 degrees.” he orders and the AI replies promptly with, “Yes, sir.”

He makes sure Peter drinks some water before leaving, fully intending to stay in the vicinity of the spider’s room for the rest of the day.

* * *

There isn’t much warning the next time, the 15 year old only just managing to find the bucket as he sits up. He simply drops his head over the bucket and burps up a small stream of bile into the bottom with an echoey splat. Tony steps in a minute later and asks the kid if he’s done before cleaning out the plastic receptacle.

By the time he’s back the boy’s sleeping again.

* * *

At 1 am, Peter wakes up again, feeling absolutely miserable. He’s too hot in his bed so he slides to the floor next to the bin. The water seems like a good idea at the time, but it settles heavily and occasionally washes up the back of his throat. He feels incredibly nauseous and moves the bucket into his lap, hovering uncomfortably as metallic spit dribbles to the bottom. He gags a few times without bringing anything up.

“FRIDAY?” he murmurs.

“Yes, Mr Parker?” she’s lowered her volume, thankfully.

“Get Mr Stark, please.” is his pitiful whimper.

A few moments later Tony enters the room.

“Oh, kid.” he sighs sympathetically, “I think you’re empty. Wanna get back in bed?”

“Not- I’m not done. Drank some water.” Peter spits into the bucket.

“Ok. Well, I can’t do much except maybe give you something to settle your stomech if it’ll stay down.” Tony offers.

“I guess… worth a shot.” Peter doubts it will, but he’ll do about anything to feel better right now.

Tony returns with some pepto and pours some out for Peter. He hands it to the kid and he downs it in one go. He cringes at the taste, grabbing the water so he can dull the flavour. He waits a few moments.

“Staying down?” Tony prods.

Peter can feel his stomach trying to reject the medicine but he doesn’t know what will happen.

“I-I don’t know?” he asks Tony as if he has the answer, “I feel really sick still, I-” he stops suddenly and takes a deep breath. He shakes his head and bends over the bucket to prepare for the inevitable. It only takes a few gags to bring up a spash of pink into the plastic. A couple of retches bring up the water, still stained pink, and a couple of mouthfuls of bile.

“That’s a no, then. Ok, get back into bed.” Tony decides that’s the best option.

“Uh, I’d rather not…” Peter argues, “I feel- I think I’ll just sit here for a bit. With the, uh…” He trails off.

“Maybe the bathroom would be a better choice?” Peter shakes his head.

“I just want to stay here, um, I think I’m going to be sick aga-” he cuts off with a strained heave and vomits weakly.

“You need to drink some water when you’re done, but…” Peter just throws up again. “Yeah, ok. Just get it all up first.”


End file.
